


A Moral Dilemma

by CelestiaTrollworth



Series: Aunt Lia's Command Academy [3]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Inadvertent Porn, Other, Sexual Humor, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 17:53:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6339424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestiaTrollworth/pseuds/CelestiaTrollworth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captains must consider the morality of their actions...and sometimes that's more interesting than they mean it to be.<br/>Part 3 of Aunt Lia's Command Academy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Moral Dilemma

“There's another thing you're unlikely to do, Jim,” Lia said, sitting back to consider the glass of soda on the table. “You're not liable to be an inadvertent pornographer.”

“Oh, now, _this_ has my attention.”

“It would,” Spock muttered.

Uhura socked his ribs with an elbow. “I know you've had to take actions that made you unhappy, but the porn industry really doesn't seem like your idea of a good time.”

“It wasn't. However...” she took another sip. “Forgot how much I missed that.--If you could, think back about fifteen years, to when all of you were _much_ too young to be interested in sex.” Uhura was the only one who laughed. Both men looked away. “A predicament you've been in and will be again: how do you make a morally questionable choice when it's all that's available?”

“Guh,” Kirk gulped. “Sucker punch. But you're right, that's what we've been into all along. Is there anything we get to do that _isn't_ some painful choice?”

“Ferrying diplomats is harmless,” Uhura said. “Well, so far. Except for the bloody noses.”

Spock barely flinched. “Scientific missions, most of the time.”

“Most rescue missions that don't involve enemy fire. I take it this one doesn't?”

“I don't know yet, but it seems not,” Lia said. “The details have been extremely sketchy.”

“So long as the ship isn't the _Kobayashi Maru_ ,” Kirk muttered. “Be just like you to stage a live-fire exercise...”

“Too many times the choices were bad and worse. Mine was this: what do you do when the authorities in charge of a prison want to know what's really going on there? Not, mind you, to be sure it's not abusive; on the contrary, to be sure it _is_?”

That got Kirk's attention. “Do we want to know?”

“Here's another command test for you, Jim, since you have a habit of cheating on the ones my nephew makes up for you. You have worked your way up to a comfortable captaincy aboard the old but marginally serviceable _Raptor's Wing_.” She set a small frame on the table. “Here are your medals.”

Kirk looked up sidewise at her. “The original Areinnye's, or yours?”

That had been the correct question. It drew the smallest of knowing smiles from her. No stolen valor there. “Mine. I never wore any I didn't earn.”

“Imperial War College command course, not the full four years—I take it you had an excuse?”

“Degree from a university on a planet that was overrun by the Klingons. I thought that would be better than using my Georgetown BS in transnuclear engineering. The spy we caught had been promised a berth at the next command course. It was my luck to 'return' as the current Praetor grew suspicious of those who had come through the War College before he took over.”

He looked up the rest on his padd. Green stars, a gold wing... “This one, seriously?”

That was also the right question. Even Spock looked approving. “ _Ie, khart-lan_. I wouldn't wear that talon if I hadn't earned it, but it wasn't a lot more involved than a Vulcan child's _kahs-wan_ , and you're stalling. The scenario: when the _Wing_ goes in for a refit after a rather pointed squabble with the Klingons, you are assigned a prison to run. It's on the edge of the Zone and when you get there you find it overfilled with Vulcans taken from everything from exploring ships to smuggling runs to raided outposts. Some have been there for decades. You can do an exemplary cruel job, advancing your career and undercover cause while mutilating your own sense of honor. You can free them prematurely, but wreck the very reason you've spent years fully undercover. Or.”

“Or,” he said, as if she should ever have doubted it. Spock and Uhura nodded agreement.

She sat back and raised an eyebrow at them. “How?”

Uhura fiddled with her padd. “How often do the authorities visit?”

“Every six months or so, irregular schedule, four or five at a time. There are Tal Shiar informants watching things inside the prison as well as guards who got their jobs by political means.”

Spock was making notes on a napkin. “What kind of ship do they bring, how is it armed, what arms can you request and what are their normal supplies?”

“Generally a smaller bird of prey, which might carry five hundred, crowded badly and mostly on the cargo deck, and make warp four or five if you could push it. You're going to stockpile arms, do in the guards and inspectors and blow the place up, using their ship for additional rescue capacity?”

Kirk stifled his amusement at Spock being transparent to someone else ad looking that miffed about it. “It had occurred.”

“You'd make such a good Romulan, straightforward even in a coup, but you're going to lose most of the prisoners that way. Do something they don't: get creative.”

Uhura gave it some thought. “First one would have to dispose of the operatives within the prison, intercept all of the comms, cut off what shouldn't get through and send your own replies.”

“Very good. You get a gold star. Now what?”

Spock surveyed his notes. “Do the Vulcans actually _need_ to go anywhere at the moment?”

“Ha! Now you're on the right track. You, there, in the red shirt in the back, what's your plan?”

Kirk chuckled. “I'm still trying to figure out how this ends up with porn. They don't have to go, if you can make their situation tolerable...oh! How closely do they watch staff food requisitions?”

“Excellent. Not closely at all. We'd get the best of everything without question or we'd off the supply clerk. By the way, we got several assets out so. Quartermaster didn't come through with kaya juice, so he was kidnapped by the spooks, disappeared and so repatriated.”

“The real operatives either have to go away _or_. And the guards,” Spock said, shaking his head faintly as he looked down at his notes. “I see no way to avoid that.”

“That was the worst part of the operation. I tried, they hear me I did, to put the guards and informants in the secure lockdown at the heart of the jail. The prisoners were spacegoing Vulcans. There was no such thing as a secure area. They broke in, took what details they wanted for their identities by forced meld—and some who did that were _Kohlinari!_ \--and disposed of the guards by...I didn't sleep for a week. From then on, when we took over a prison, we first took the guards off onto our secure planetoid with food, clothing, medical supplies and no way to call home. With no comm and insufficient ingenuity to build any, they were as safe as they were ineffective. We offered to send them home with what was left of the Fourth Fleet last year, but most can't go when everyone knows who they are. They have a stable colony where they can live out their lives.”

Spock muttered under his breath. Kirk couldn't blame him. “Maybe don't mention where it is.”

“Not in front of my nephews. Or my brother. Or, on many days, me. I'm still tempted to—never mind. There's your first lesson: you got the bird or the stars on your collar, you get to not sleep for a week and drink a lot.” She had a belt of her soda. “In Terran terms, I was trying to infiltrate the _khyrykah_ ' Waffen SS without being it, which meant at least some selective wet work. Now. Things were stable, nobody was getting killed trying to escape, the prisoners' diet was better, we had actual medical care once the healers were allowed to work in the open. The dying had stopped. Trouble was, we were overdue for inspection, and I knew those liable to come weren't people we could bump off and replace. They deserved it, mind you, but we couldn't. Now what do you do?”

Uhura chewed the end of her stylus thoughtfully. “What kind of inspection would it be?”

“Tour of the facilities on arrival, overnight stay, evaluation or execution in the morning. The officers I was sure would be involved were three Tal Shiar colonels and one major, plus the possibility of one of ours. We knew two of the colonels and the major were playing a three-handed game of hide the salami.” When Uhura laughed, she looked up. “Did I get that right?”

“Yes. The image is...priceless.”

“And they were lazy. Word was they marked up any inspection to a 4.0 if they had good meals, plenty of booze and entertainment. Meals, check. Booze, check. Entertainment...now what do you do?”

Kirk chortled. “I have the feeling poetry readings and discreet background music wouldn't handle it. Um...were there any VKs in the bunch?”

“ _Vrekampt, vrekasht_ and _v'tosh k'turr_ , plus _k'turr stonn_. About a third of the population. Along with the unfortunate scientists and merchant marine sailors were a lot of criminals, a few hardcores but mostly smugglers and the kind of opportunists who serve outposts.”

“Well then,” Spock said, and cleared his throat. “It wasn't a problem, was it?”

“No. He asked the right question, you drew the right conclusion. See how well you work together? When T'Pau chucked me off the planet I went to Georgetown, was bonded to Lhairre and wasn't innocent. But when I asked for volunteers and ideas, I was really... _surprised_ by both the recption and the suggestions _._ They nearly all offered to take care of business in ways I could not have imagined...and hadn't thought possible in some cases. When I inquired about what the prison _k'turr_ needed for what they were about to do, they gave me a list. I can't believe I signed _that_ requisition without dying of embarrassment. The next day I got a call from Colonel Salami Sandwich about it, and he wasn't angry. He was nearly drooling over subspace. Yes, yes, it's for when you come, uh, get here.”

Uhura guffawed and wiped her eyes on a cocktail napkin. “Use my imagination?”

“Feathers,” Lia said, looking down at the table. “Lots and lots of feathers. A very large quantity of personal lubricant in several consistencies and, ah, colors, some of which glowed in the dark. Many cosmetics. Klingon brow ridge masks. Body paint. Glitter, regular and edible. Whips. Handcuffs, regular and fuzzy. A few large fvav harnesses and collars...with spikes...lots of high-heeled boots, and several costume-grade Tal Shiar uniforms. Many items I can only describe as medical equipment. The usual, she said. Ahem.”

“Which is why they were _k'torr stonn_ ,” Spock said, stone-faced.

Kirk tried not to enjoy tormenting him too much. “So these were willing participants? Not coerced in any way?”

“I asked for volunteers without promising anything. They were willing. _Really_ willing. Some enjoyed their former occupations a great deal and missed being able to do what they loved, or at least to do somebody whether they loved or not.”

“Then I don't have a problem with it. I mean, if you do, that's okay.”

“You don't, but I did! Next lesson learned: you use what you have, even if it makes you pace around your quarters trying not to say 'Jesus, Mary and Joseph!' out loud because all of your swear words have gone too thin for what you need and that's all your profs back in college would say.”

“Tradecraft again,” Kirk said, considering how often the wrong swears would have busted him.

“So now what do you do?”

“I suppose you let the show go...” Uhura stopped. “No, you make sure the inspectors get all they want to drink before they look around, don't you?”

“Correct! I met them at the transporter platform and acted eager for them to look around, but of course it would have been rude not to offer them blue ale or mint wine. I'd left the actual...preparations to the lady who had been a producer as well as a performer, and she assured me nobody would ever demonstrate better torture. It looked completely bizarre and sickening to anyone who couldn't read the emotion involved. The sticking point—that's a bad expression here--was the fifth man sent to inspect us, my Rai. He nudged me during the tour and thought _What is this?_ ” She sloshed the soda and waved the other hand around lightly. “Answers?”

“You'd _have_ to think at him,” Uhura said. “That's not something you could say out loud.”

“Yeah, and just looking at each other might not cut it,” Kirk agreed. “So?”

“So...the minute the other backs are turned Rai threw me up against the wall so he can shove his face against mine and get the whole picture fast. He hadn't thought past that, and it just about bit us, because Rai doesn't do women and was fairly clueless at the time. I found myself in the undignified position of trying to think him directions for molesting me. 'Bite my neck ow not that hard and really obviously cop a feel. No, Rai. Not my elbow, grab my breast, trust me.' Of all people,aother colonel bailed me out by making a joke about saving that for after the show, then realizing I had my husband right there and making an even worse joke about threefers. Next lesson, Jim: if you and Spock ever have to simulate sex and you don't actually do it with each other, read up on it first.”

“Notgonnabenecessary,” Kirk mumbled.

“I require another drink,” Spock said, and came back not with more bourbon but with cola. He sat on the other side of the table, carefully avoiding contact with his captain.

“Hmm.” Uhura appeared thoughtful as she looked back and forth between them. Kirk wished he could melt through the floor.

“The tour went flawlessly, but some of the things they were doing in the cells! Until that very moment, despite the highly theatrical and expert screams, I had no idea that some people actually _enjoyed_ the thing with the straps and butter and—but the colonel and his people were impressed. Dinner was your usual overblown Tal Shiar affair with many courses and an extensive selection of intoxicants. Lhairre was there with me, and Rai, and it should have been a happy occasion. Next lesson: you have your husband and your soul there, both of them gawking like teenagers who just found a copy of _Vulcan Love Slave_. The inspectors all moved their chairs right up against the stage, so Rai moved over beside me saying 'Oh, so that's how that works. I didn't know you could do that. I think I'd like to try that. Is _that_ how two men can--' As for Lhairre, he was taking notes, and I started counting up years and realized why I'd been so attracted to him lately. You know the joke about half and half sex: half drunk and half Romulan. _Half_. I knew what had to happen soon, but not in front of those people. The entertainers took the colonel and his friends off to their quarters, and the aides asked whether I had any personal plans for those others—no, but they must be returned in good condition, we'll be using them again—and we got out of there.”

“Security cameras,” Kirk said as the idea hit home. “They caught everything, didn't they?”

“Exactly. Of course, they also caught what happened in the guest suites. I had disabled the ones in mine, which turned out to be a good thing because listeners might safely think Rai was involved in that night's festivities instead of snoring on the foot of our bed. When the colonel and his party were ready to leave the next day, they asked for the vid of the performance. I gave them both vids and told them to enjoy them, thinking that might be a good bargaining chip for extortion.”

“I might have held theirs in reserve, but you know the situation. Let me guess,” Kirk said. “This is where I need to expect the unexpected.”

“Yes. It took them about a week to get back to section HQ. By a week after that, I had four more official inspection tours in the next week and a half, which gave me time to deal with Lhairre. He'd been inspired too, so we added a lot of muscle rub to the next requisition. A prison carpentry crew arrived with instructions to build new guest rooms. It seems the colonels had many friends who wanted to see how well the prison was run, and what exemplary new torture methods had been devised, and not surprisingly, they expected the evening entertainment and nice places to stay. There were lots and lots of extra volunteers to take care of that. And that is how I, mother, monogamous bondmate, Jesuit university graduate, inadvertently ended up running a well-kept whorehouse.”

“Well...nobody was getting hurt, right?”

“Not if they didn't want to. That was a very popular service. Worse yet, the evening show vids became popular, especially on ships that were out for a long time. We...ended up with...several. I was never so glad to get a transfer in my life even if it landed us right in the middle of the big Klingon incursion. It turned out to be a huge stepping stone to the admiralcy. I would like to think of a lesson that goes with _that_ , but I can't.”

“Delegate?” Spock asked, utterly deadpan.

Kirk suppressed the smirk. “Hmm, yes, if you have a task you really don't want yourself, you delegate.” Spock calligraphed a note and shoved it across to him, indicating what he'd like Kirk to do to himself since he didn't intend to. “Yeah, like that. Wait, Admiral... _Vulcan Love Slave_? ”

“One of the most viewed pornos in the Federation. I can't believe you haven't heard of it.”

“With all due respect, _rekkhai_ , I can't believe you _have_.”

“I have indeed, because I...know the people who wrote it.” She cleared her throat and belted down the rest of her soda. “All three of them. One straight man, one straight woman bonded to him and a gay man who had not much knowledge but a lot of literary skill questioned a cast of performers who had a wide range of experience. It was a remarkable tool for financing resistance activities, as well as a way of getting out actual information to people who had absolutely none. And if there is such a place as hell, that's where I'm headed just for that!”


End file.
